As reporters sometimes we take for granted our licence to probe the political views of strangers. We demand to know their castes as well as their voting preferences.
I have forgotten the number of times I pushed gates, sat cross-legged on verandahs, interrupted tea sessions and caught hold of people while they were working in the fields in the run-up to the recent election. I cajoled them into conversation and most of them obliged.
But what happens if an interviewee turns the tables on you and asks, “Who did you vote for? Which side are you on? What ideology do you subscribe to? Who according to you is the right candidate this election?”
I was speechless when an insistent group in a village near Ajmer asked me these questions while pointing at my left index finger which was freshly marked with indelible ink.
Next came nervous laughter. I tried to evade the question using humour. Then I replied that I was a mere observer who was sent to record their reactions; that I had no views of my own. The group would not buy any of it. They were adamant. In the political war that was playing out across the country, they wanted to know which side I was on.
I then tried giving vague replies about the race in the Lok Sabha constituency that I voted in. Not satisfied with my response, a young man in the group decided for himself my ideology and my political inclination. With the spread of fake news on WhatsApp and the derisive use of the term ‘left liberals’ while referring to the media, I was an easy target. “If you can ask us, why can’t we ask you?” he demanded. A fair request, after all.
I deflected the question by asking them about the board game they were playing. The cement floor had a frame drawn on it with chalk, and rounded grey pebbles. The game was called char-maar or nau-kante , they explained. I still don’t know anything about the game, but asking about it did get me off the hook.
Of course, not everyone is always so persistent. On the same trip, I sought out a beautiful Rajasthani woman dressed in a parrot-coloured dupatta, silver bangles, armlets, a necklace and a nose ring. We did not speak each other’s language, yet we managed to converse. In a thick Rajasthani dialect she asked, “You tell me, who should I vote for?” I redirected the conversation to the everyday rigours of life.
Many respondents ask this question indirectly but politely to learn about a journalist’s views.
From the first day in the newsroom, we reporters are told that we are not the story. We are told that we have to try to fade into the background and imagine that we are wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak while our ears do most of the work. We must probe a little and provoke a little in order to ensure that the conversation goes on. We are told to keep a tight lid on our own opinions and not let the ‘confirmation bias’ creep in. We are told to honestly reflect what we hear.
I have started questioning this age-old wisdom though, especially with Twitter being ablaze with opinions and forcing reporters to pick a side.
Why should journalists not be entitled to their own views? As a respected journalist recently said, in divisive times you can’t be neutral, you have to be objective.
I am still looking for answers.
